Have you ever hated someone so much that the very thought of them makes you want to vomit? When you recall their mannerisms, their facial expressions, their little idiosyncrasies, their lovable flaws, their clothes, their voice, their hair... As soon as his smile or his laughter or the crease of his brows so much as appears in your mind, don't you feel like your heart is about to shatter? Doesn't your chest tighten at the slightest whiff of a memory of him—of this person?
And then you start hating yourself, don't you, for being so easily affected, so easily buffeted about by the man you despise above all else. He's not your nemesis, to use a childish term; he hardly even thinks about you. You're nothing to him, but he's still everything to you. Blotting out your mind with the blackness of hate through mere thoughts and recollections, not even the slightest effort on his part. It's not fair. It's not fair. To be pitied by someone you loathe. To be so consumed by hate that you feel like the world is ending when you simply spot him across an assembly hall. To see his face light up with excitement as yours is turning crimson with confusion and rage, and all you can think between panicked gasps is:
Hate and hate with hate of hate to hate for hate so hate in hate on hate by hate through hate plus hate yet hate at hate into hate upon hate...
Your vision goes blurry, and you start hyperventilating. Is he coming over here? Is he coming toward me? The fight-or-flight response kicks in. You simply can't bear to see him in front of you again, grinning and playing the fool, asking if you remember him or not. Talking about how much of a coincidence it is, seeing you here. Small world, huh. Surely he thought you'd be begging on the streets or dead by now. Ha ha ha.
So, you run. Turn tail and run, pushing through the crowd of other first-year students at Manase University until you put the whole building behind you.
You turn around, and the man you despise so much doesn't seem to have followed you. Deep breaths. Deeper and deeper breaths, returning to normal, the redness draining from your face. You have your first classes today—got to get yourself together. Don't let him dominate your first day of college. Don't let him ruin yet another chapter in your life, Oikura.
Indeed, Oikura. Sodachi Oikura; that's my name.
And surprisingly enough, what I just described really happened to me—on my first day of school at Manase University, at the end of the entrance ceremony, I locked eyes with Koyomi Araragi and ran away as fast as I could.
However, this is not the story of my first day of college with an old enemy.
This is the story of how I killed him.